


hot boy bummer

by pacemakers



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Han Jisung | Han, College, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, Students, yes i did a college au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21973225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacemakers/pseuds/pacemakers
Summary: Minho doesn't know why or how, but the way Jisung sweeps his fringe back before chewing on his lower lip, eyebrows drawn together in a concentrated frown, and the gentle motion of his wrist flicking back and forth across the canvas draws him in, more and more.(In which Jisung paints. Minho watches.)
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 13
Kudos: 115
Collections: Kpop Writers - Secret Santa 2019





	hot boy bummer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anchan_thevolleyballplayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchan_thevolleyballplayer/gifts).



> \- this fic is part of a secret santa gift exchange!! to my giftee: sorry for being late but i hope you enjoy this uwu  
> \- leave kudos and comments bc they're greatly appreciated!  
> \- title comes from the song hot girl bummer by blackbear!!

Minho's so deeply settled into his nap that he almost misses the dismissal when it comes - as usual, in a drone: "Alright. Lecture dismissed." 

Almost, but he manages to pick up on the sound of the eighty or so other sleeping students stirring at the word 'dismissed'. And almost, because there's something seemingly instinctive in his bodily system that itches at his legs like it always does after this weekly lecture, something that prompts him to stir and get up and going.

Almost, because he's practically been hardwired to anticipate the lecture's closure at - as always - 11 am sharp. 

Almost.

There's a semi-abandoned classroom down the hallway to the lecture hall, the lecture hall he's found himself eager to step out of weekly after each course ever since the discovery of the said classroom. 

Why? Minho doesn't exactly know how to explain it, but there's a person, lean and tanned with dark brown eyes, and his hair is dyed the truest, bluest shade of blue. There's a person, and Minho doesn't quite know how to explain it, but there  _ is  _ a person.

And information isn't all that difficult to obtain when he looks for it in the right places and people. With a little bit of asking around, he's got a name and a major: Han Jisung, 19, art student. 

There isn't anything particularly remarkable in the way he dresses - he doesn't carry himself with posture or poise that would set him apart from anyone else. In fact, the way he slouches and makes his way out of that semi-abandoned classroom down the hallway every other week, to Minho's keen observation, is rather resemblant of every other student he's seen around the campus.

A little hunched, a little weary; there's nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to Jisung.

But there  _ is _ something. There  _ is _ something, Minho's convinced, different and special about this guy. There  _ is _ something - and maybe it's not in the plain black nondescript hoodie he always wears (just like the rest of the emo art major population), but Minho knows there's just something about him, something not quite considered odd but also not typical, something that in a way  _ attracts _ him to Jisung. 

Whatever it is, he can't seem to stop himself from waiting outside the classroom time and time again, every week after his 10 am lectures.

And today is no different.

Minho doesn't know why or how, but looking at the way Jisung sweeps his fringe back before chewing on his lower lip, eyebrows drawn together in a concentrated frown, and the gentle motion of his wrist flicking back and forth across the canvas draws him in, more and more. 

Trying to lurk as silently as he can from behind the classroom door, he watches the familiar movement of Jisung's arm he'd observed so many times before: up and down, slow and deliberate. He has to shift himself ever so often to get a clear view of Jisung and his painting - today it's a brand new piece, and Minho's lips unconsciously part in admiration seeing the strokes of pink and yellow unfold and come to life, a warmly vivid sunset. 

Already he's grown a kind of fondness to seeing the various new paintings Jisung starts on whenever he does.  _ 3? 4? 4 _ , Minho thinks to himself, counting the number of completed pieces since the first time seeing him painting inside that classroom. 

And in that small fraction of time, as Minho tries to count off memory the number of finished artworks he's managed to see so far, he doesn't notice the sudden and off-putting stillness in the classroom, in the dipped brush now laid down to the side, and the stillness in Jisung himself: he's sitting still, carefully scrutinising his unfinished work. But Minho's distracted and doesn't notice, doesn't notice when-  _ when _ -

(He's never thought it possible, but time does freeze in real life.

He learns this fact again, later.)

A week comes and passes again. 

Jisung did not show.

Minho's never thought it possible, but time  _ does  _ freeze - everything halts when the universe's scale tips and reverses, when the impossible happens, when the ordinary expands into extraordinary, and most of all, when the inconspicuous student gets caught creepily loitering outside the kind-of-but-not-really abandoned classroom, watching some other student they don't  _ technically _ know, paint. 

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid _ \- how did he not pick up on what was happening? How was he so stupidly unaware and so... Minho feels his face slowly start to burn as he once again makes his way down that familiar hallway,  _ 11 am _ , except this time he doesn't feel all that excited to pass the classroom that Jisung's probably never going to use again, after-

Minho shakes his head, forcing the image out of his mind.  _ He turned around, he turned; his head turned and he turned around and looked at me; he turned around and looked. He saw me, he saw me, he saw me _ -

_ It's a little too late to be regretting things, isn't it?  _ Sighing, Minho attempts to shove everything out of his head and focus on... whatever else there is to give his attention to.

He almost misses it when he walks past the classroom - huge, simple in its noir, black-and-white glory, Minho almost misses the brand new painting set up on the easel inside, so bold and so jarring compared to the emptiness he'd been faced with the previous week when Jisung didn't show up.

The door is wide open this time, unlike how it typically is when Minho stands behind it, barely open with only a tiny slit of light he looks through trying to catch a glimpse at Jisung painting away. And at a closer look, Minho realises that it isn't an artwork like any other. It isn't a sunset or a cloudy sky or a playground or anything like what he's used to seeing the artist paint.

It is a  _ portrait _ , Minho's stunned to note, a portrait of  _ him _ . Him, Lee Minho - just him, himself, and Jisung had drawn  _ him _ .

"Do you like it?"

_ Holy fu-  _

Appearing behind him out of nowhere, somehow, is-

Minho blinks.

(He knows by now, because he's experienced it once before; time freezes and comes to a halt at the strangest moments.) 

Standing before him right now is Han Jisung, and weirdly, the first thing that Minho thinks of is that he's shorter than expected - although in all fairness, only being able to see someone's crouched sitting position isn't gonna give anybody the best gauge of their height. 

"Oh, I- uh-" Minho finds himself biting down on his tongue before he can say anything stupid and make the art major think of him as more of a creep than he already does. "...It looks good," he finally supplies, blinking rapidly - he ignores the slow flush of heat that's starting to flood his cheeks, forcing himself to meet Jisung's eyes with as much of a smile he can muster. "I mean, like,  _ really  _ good."  _ Stupid stupid stupid stupid shut up shut up shut UP _ .

"So… you like it?" Jisung asks, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. Minho has to restrain himself from either falling apart into a gooey puddle on the spot or bolting out of there without looking back once. Instead, he steadily maintains eye contact like a _ normal human being  _ even though Jisung's bright-eyed, wide smile is in no way making his heart feel anything like normal. 

"Yeah. I, uh, I like it. A lot," he mumbles - too quickly, and Jisung seems to notice, raising an eyebrow. "I just think-"

"You're nervous," Jisung cuts in, probably grinning at the way Minho visibly grits his teeth, trying to stop himself from squirming and shrivelling up on the spot. 

"I'm not  _ nervous _ ," Minho responds in protest, "I just don't know what to say."

"Why?"

He purses his lips in mild frustration.  _ This asshole… _ "You… I'm just speechless," Minho says eventually, praying that his cheeks don't look as red as they feel. "Because your painting's so good." 

"Is that it? Just because my painting's 'good'?"

"What  _ more  _ do you want?" Minho manages to choke out, averting his gaze so the stupidly attractive, all-too-knowing blue-haired piece of  _ hot  _ doesn't see the panic flaring in his pupils. 

"You're asking me? Well, for starters…" Jisung pauses. "Your credit card info." 

"Hu-" "And your number, but that might be a little bit more private… no pressure, though." 

"Look," Minho says, flustered and garbled with incoherent swirling dissonances of thoughts swarming his head, "look. I'm sorry to disappoint, but we barely know each other."

_ And I want to puke _ , he thinks to himself, but to Jisung he can only say: " _ And _ \- my gut tells me that giving out my number and credit card info to a stranger isn't, you know, the safest."

Jisung frowns, dissatisfaction obvious in his downturned eyebrows- "Hey, that's not fair. I painted this - to quote -  _ really good _ portrait for you, and I don't even get anything in return?" 

Unfortunately, Minho thinks to himself, the guy has a point. "M-my name," Minho stutters in response. "You get my name." Sucking in a deep breath, he tries not to let himself get intimidated by the piercingly  _ keen _ look in Jisung's eyes - "I'll give you my name, but only if you tell me yours first."  _ Exhale _ .

His determined expression wavers for a split second, taken aback, but it quickly settles back into the nonchalant look he'd had when asking Minho for his number. "Han Jisung," Jisung supplies, "but I'm sure you'll be calling me your newest favourite person very soon." 

Chest strangely heavy, Minho tries not to make much of the statement. "I'm Lee Minho. Um, psychology major," he adds, after thinking about it and realising how it  _ is _ a little unfair that he already knows more about Jisung than he's really let on.

Jisung nods sagely. "Explains that whole panicky air. I'm art, but you've probably figured that out."

He doesn't have the heart to reveal that he's actually known pretty much everything there is to know about Jisung from a little bit of asking around and quite a lot of cyberstalking - although the guy definitely doesn't leave much of an internet footprint.

Rather, Minho focuses on that first part: " _ Panicky  _ air?" He wrinkles his nose. "I do  _ not _ have 'panicky air'." 

Folding his arms, Jisung looks down at the watch on his wrist. "Well. Panicky air or not - and I'd  _ love  _ to stay and argue my point - I'm late for my class now." He smiles up at Minho, eyes gleaming as if issuing a challenge. "Care to escort me back to my dorm? I've got to pick something up first." 

"I, uh- I've got a class coming up soon," Minho lies, plastering on a fake-apologetic smile. _It'_ _ s easier than telling him I'm  _ way _ too much of a panicked gay to bring him anywhere near his... sleeping quarters _ . 

"That's unfortunate. Maybe next time?" Jisung asks, turning on his heel to walk away - and the way he says it, it's not much of a question, but a promise.

(Minho isn't the best when it comes to keeping promises.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed!! next chapter WILL come out soon i promise

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's been forever since i published this but i edited it (basically edited all the grammatical errors) and ive decided to leave it as a oneshot so yeah !! thanks for reading


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